When Darkness Falls
by scarlettfire
Summary: Wanda has a secret, one that won't be secret for much longer. Jonda. sorry, i'm bad at summaries.
1. Chapter 1: Awaken

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: So this my seem like it's AU, but it's not really. So, please enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Blanket disclaimer (if i can do that ??) i don't own these wonderful people. At all. It makes me sad. ;'(**

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Chapter one: (Awaken)

My alarms beeping incessantly in my ear. Damn, I hate that thing. I open my eyes and swat at it. I miss the first time but I make it the second. So annoying.

I change out of my pajamas and go make myself a bowl of cereal. Pietro's in the shower, taking forever as usual. It's the reason I've given up on having the bathroom in the morning. I brush my teeth in the sink.

Pietro finally makes an appearance, he's in his track stuff, as usual. My twin loves to run and takes it upon himself to run to and from school everyday.

"See ya." He says on his way out. I ignore him. I have a minute or two before John rolls up. I watch for him, wishing again that my car wasn't in the shop. Stupid gas leak.

I see orange and get my bag. "Sheila." He waves. I feel a wave of annoyance. I hate being called Sheila, yet no matter how many times I try to drill this into his thick skull, he always forgets. I glare at him as I thread my arms through my backpack. "Come on." He says.

I get on behind him and wrap my arms around his waist so I don't fly off. As usually happens when I touch him, my heart skips a beat. I hate that, it's so annoying. He's so annoying. Yet my body is continually reminding me of his looks. John is cute, in that crazy, always amused way. The way I would find attractive if he wasn't such a dolt.

We get to the school and I hop away as quick as possible. We have the same classes, so he walks with me. We enter biology and I spot Rogue. Kurt's by her, his blue hair swishing around as he recounts something he probably saw on tv and found fascinating.

"Kurt." I say, drawing his attention away from Rogue. She throws me a grateful look. Kurt gets on her nerves sometimes, brothers tend to do that. "Amanda's here." I say. Kurt looks, finds the blond, and gravitates to her. They're officially friends, but a monkey could see they're in love.

"Morning." Rogue greets as I sit. Storm, our teacher, is standing at the board, writing, her white hair making the board seem dirty. She waits for the bell to speak, but she still manages to catch everyone's attention before it.

"Morning class." She says with a smile. The door opens and Toad walks in. It's not his real name, he's just overly fond of toads, even the teachers call him that. I'm pretty sure his real name's Mortimer or something like that. "Late again, Toad." Storm eyes him.

He just nods and heads towards me, luckily for me he can't get to close. The tables seat only two people and I sit in the back corner of the room. In the beginning of the year I made John sit in front of me. Naturally that made Remy sit there too, not like he wouldn't have been there anyway.

Storm makes us get microscopes and slides. It's gonna be another normal, menial day, I can just feel it. History, English, Gym, Lunch, Math, Business, Art. They all go by in a flash I can't remember. Images come to me, a volley ball flying at me, Rogue throwing salad at Remy, Kitty chattering nonstop in Business. They leave as quickly and easily as they come.

John takes me home. He's warm against the rushing wind. It's nearly November, the snow will start soon. My heart flutters and dances at his every move but I ignore it. I've been ignoring it so long I barely have to think about it.

I don't bother with my homework, I've never been one to do it anyway. I sit on the couch, images flicking across the television screen. I'm not really watching, its all unimportant.

I'm completely unaware of time passing, of the complete emptiness of my mind. Not a single thought runs through my head, just blankness. 'Why am I so lethargic today?' I wonder finally. It's dark, so dark that even the light from the television is barely making a difference on the shadows.

I'm in my room with no clear idea just how I got here. I lay on my bed. Time passes again. I hear a knock at my window. I know who it is instantly. I roll off my bed and open the window. John climbs in. Distantly I hear the sound of raised voices. His parents are fighting again.

So often, it happens so often he doesn't even bother to ask if he can stay, he just lays his long body down on my bed. So often it happens I don't even think to question his movements, he's sleeping here. My bed is the only place he'll fit in my small room. I lay myself beside him, pull the blanket over us. When we were younger I got him his own blanket and pillow, now we just share.

We always kept such a careful distance when we were younger, we were always so awkward. I had a boy in my bed. We never touched, never even looked at each other. Despite it all, we would wake in a tangled heap. Now, so many years later, it seems nothing that John's arms circle my waist, that I rest my head on his chest.

I remember the first time. He'd already made a habit of staying over when his parents fought. He would sleep sitting, leaned against the wall beneath my window. It was so impractical, I offered him a spot on my bed. It was a double sized bed, big enough for two people. I knew from experience, Rogue had slept over before.

The thoughts run from my mind, leaving it blank once more. Darkness takes hold of me, I fall asleep in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2: Attacks

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: The health teacher at my school actually did that, it makes me scared for next year when I take it. (runs away)  
And since I'm not sure what or if Rogue has a last name. I made it something with an L. **

**The Duplicitous One : Nope, not even close. Don't worry about the Romt though. It's there. :D**

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Chapter two: (Attacks)

The alarm wakes me up again, like always. I try to move my arm but it's trapped. I don't need to open my eyes to know why. John is laying on it partially.

"John." I stage whisper. He groans and shifts, but doesn't open his eyes. I don't even know why I bother to try waking him this way. I resort to my tried and true method. I wiggle my other arm free, and push my fingers into his stomach as hard as I can. "Wake up."

"Ow, Sheila." He says, his normal reaction. "What?"

"Time to get up, and your on my arm." I tell him. He stares blankly, gathering, then he nods once and attempts to get up. It takes a little maneuvering, on both of our parts, but we manage to get up. He goes out my window and I turn to my closet. I pick out something red and pull it on. In the kitchen I have my cereal again, brush my teeth in the sink and wait for John to pull up.

It doesn't take him long, Pietro's still in the shower when he does. I leave my twin in the house and go outside. It's colder today, but the sun is shining. The cold air burns my lungs slightly, but it feels good. Today is a good day, I'm gonna remember today.

My heart flips as usual at his touch, the heat of him. He smells like smoke, not cigaret smoke, but like a campfire. He always does, somehow it's stronger today. No, it's not stronger, I'm just more aware. It's days like this that I notice how, empty I usually am. In these days I'm much more alert, I notice things more.

The wind flings back my black hair, I've left it down. The helmet I wear is red, one of John's. He insists I wear it when he drives me places. His own helmet is orange, like his hair, but it's not the same. His helmet is a flat boring colour, his hair has life. I don't bother shaking this train of thought away, I'm just bound to find it again later if I do. my eyes water at the wind, I hide my face from it, burring it in John's back. He doesn't mind, he knows I hate the wind. I stare down, something shiny catches my eye, his belt. I catch a glimpse of blue. My eyes I know. John has blue eyes too, but his are different.

The movement of the bike slows, altering me to our location. Now it's time to get rid of my thoughts. I do so easily. I hop off, faster than yesterday. We walk to class together again, we do everyday. I take my seat in biology. Rogue's not here yet. We're a little early.

"Sheila," John says, turned around to face me in his seat. I lift my eyes to his. A surge of annoyance at the name. "You were talking again." he says with a smirk. Sometimes, I talk in my sleep. Not often as he makes it sound, just, sometimes. He does too. I say nothing, return my attention to unloading my bag, ignoring him. "You wanna know what you said?"

I ignore him some more. He's irritating me.

"It was something about darkness, it was coming for you." John said. "You said you were scared."

"Well, obviously I was having a dream." I tell him, glaring at him. "Now turn around and leave me alone before I dead bolt my window." He turns, his parents have loud voices.

Rogue makes and appearance, Remy tagging along behind her. "Mais chere..." Remy was saying.

"Go away Remy, ah don' wanna tahlk tah ya." Rogue told him. "Ah ain't goin' out with ya, so get ovah it." She speed up and took her seat next to me. A useless attempt to get rid of him. His seat was directly in front of her, and he would have followed anyway. He was nothing if not persistent.

"Chere..." he tried to start.

"Ah ain't yar chere, now stop callin' meh that." Rogue fought to keep her voice down, level.

Remy shook his auburn head. "Remy don' know why chere won't go out wid 'im." he said, more to himself than anyone else. Still it made her lose it. Rogue didn't normally lose it, in fact it was a rare occasion that her temper flared up so violently. She stood up, her chair flying back, and grabbed him by his collar.

"Ya listen an' ya listen good. Ah ain't yar chere and ah ain't gonna date ya." She said in a cold low voice. Remy wasn't paying attention, his focus had shifted from her voice. Instead his eyes stared hazily at her lips, so close to him right then.

I fight back a smile as John tries to stifle his laughter. They were hilarious. Rogue didn't spare us a glance. She pushed Remy back, forcing him to spring back to catch his balance. He sent a table skidding away.

"Please refrain from breaking lab equipment." Storm said in a calm voice. By now she was used to Romy's antics. I laugh internally, if Rogue found out I referred to them as that she'd turn her anger on me. I'd rather not.

Storm had us watching a movie on mitosis, we'd be watching it again tomorrow. When the bell rang I went straight to history, yesterday Mr. Summers, or Scott as we call him, he's an alumnus, told us we we're having a test. It's easier than I thought it'd be. I'm thankful today's a clear day, I have more trouble with tests on empty days. English we read more of Julius Caesar.

Today I have health instead of gym. Mr. McCoy is our teacher. He's not in the room when he come in, which is weird, but I ignore it. I take my seat in the middle of the class. Mr. McCoy's arranged us alphabetically. It's a small class though, only three rows of five seats. I head the middle row, my seat next to John's. Remy's in the back of John's row, however he's perfectly content with that. Rogue sits in front of him. He plays with her hair when she isn't looking. She's caught him doing it a few times.

The bell rings and the class is full, but Mr. McCoy still isn't in the room. Only one. "Where is he?" could be uttered before the door opens and there he is. Instantly he mortifies the entire room. He's dressed as reproductive organs.

I try to block out the image, for the first time cursing my clear day and wishing for emptiness. I don't think I'll be able to eat after this. I decidedly ignore my teacher as he talks, I don't wanna hear it. I know it all anyway. Instead I count the tiles on the ceiling and letting numbers take hold of my brain.

I was right about lunch, I'm not hungry at all. Rogue and I sit at our usual table, it's huge, one of those things that are attached to the wall and at least 20 feet long. Remy and John sit at the other end. Remy pointedly stares at Rogue until she glares at him. "Stop it already." I tell them. "John, distract him." John does his part, or at least, he tries too. I go back to ignoring that end of the table and attempt to gain Rogue's attention. "What are you drawing for your mandala?" I ask her. She looks at me blankly for a second. Then she shrugs.

"Ya?"

"Numbers prolly, they'd have to mean something though." I tell her. A mandala is a series of circles that get bigger, the farther from the middle circle, the less important or related to your overall theme. At least, that's what our art teacher told us.

"Any idea's what ya'll use?"

"In the middle I want to put the number one." I tell her. "That's all I got so far." Rogue just nods. We don't need to talk anymore. Silence is comfortable for us. In math I try to think of other important numbers, nothing pops out at me. I spend business like this too. In on my way to art that I finally realize what's happening.

My clear day, it's slipping. Emptiness is starting to envelope me again. It's never happened in the middle of the day before. No! I don't want to go back to that. I fight it, I fight it hard. I'm not aware that I've stopped moving until my stomach lurches. I don't know that the hall is empty until I look up for help. I fall to the ground, the floor is cold.

I feel it, the emptiness, it's coming on fast, I can't fight it. I don't want it! I want to be awake! I want to scream, in my mind I do, but I can't make a sound. I can't move an inch. There's nothing I can do, I try to hold on, but nothing will stop this.

Finally sound passes my lips, movement comes to me. "NO!" I shout as my body contorts, folding in on itself.

I see nothing but darkness.


	3. Chapter 3: Emptiness

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: I love reviews. Please review!!  
Oh and sorry for the horrible spelling and grammar in Chapter two. I realized that I hadn't spell checked that one. So, sorry again. :bows head in shame:  
****In case anyone wonders, Logan is the art teacher. It's a little allusion to X2.**

**The Duplicitous One: You'll see.**

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Chapter three: (Emptiness)

I smell smoke. I open my eyes. Darkness meets my eyes, but it's not the same, it's not so deep, so impenetrable. "Wanda." It's John's voice. I can't see him. "Wanda." he says again. I turn my head, there he is. We're in my room, laid out on my bed.

"Yeah?"

"You're okay." he beams. He pulls me into his chest. "I was worried about you."

"I'm home?" I say, slightly confused.

"Yeah. Well, see, I was going to the bathroom when I heard you scream. I was the first one there, the only one actually, nobody else was in that hallway. You were curled up, blacked out. I took you home, right then."

"How'd you get me on the bike?"

"It wasn't that hard actually. You had a death grip going, so I just put me in it." John answers.

"You didn't bring me to the hospital?"

"No, I, I didn't want you to go there." He says. There was something in his voice, something I couldn't identify. I don't get a chance to ask, John, in his usual style of carelessness, hugs me tighter and rolls us over, crushing me a little. "I'm just so happy you woke up." he says.

"John?"

"Shh," he says into my hair. "Are you tired?" I shake my head. "You want to get up?" I shake my head again. He's holding me, my heart's fluttering. He's held me before, but never like this, never so utterly close. "You want anything? At all?" he asks, he's joking now. Still I shake my head. He rolls us over again and I rest my head on his chest.

He strokes my hair. "What happened Sheila?" he asks. I keep my mouth shut. No one knows about my emptiness, I'm not about to tell. He knows I'm keeping secrets, but he doesn't push it. He just lays with me, stroking my hair. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. I don't stop him. I wonder vaguely if he can hear my still fluttering heart. I can hear his, it's steady. I don't realize it when I've fallen asleep.

* * *

I open my eyes to find him. He's staring at me, like he didn't sleep. "You okay?" he asks, touches my face.

"Yeah." I tell him. I'm about to get up for school, but I realize it's Saturday.

"Hungry?" My stomach answers for me, the traitor, I was going to say no, tell him to go home. "Come on." John pulls us up. "Breakfast time." He pulls me through my own house. Faintly I remember Pietro, but I know he's not home. He spends weekends out with his girlfriend, Lexa, mostly. John sits me down at my kitchen table and starts looking around my kitchen.

It's then I notice, the emptiness, it's come back. I feel no shock, I don't feel anything really. I hold back a sigh, watching as the crazy Australian rummages through my kitchen cabinets. He finally finds whatever it was he was looking for.

I lose track of time. The next thing I know, he's handing me a plate. There's yellow fluffy stuff on it. Scrambled eggs. I take the plate.

John doesn't leave me all day. I really must have scared him yesterday. He probably doesn't think I notice, but I'm so aware of his touch, even with the emptiness. He keeps touching me, my hand, my hair, the small of my back. It's like he's afraid I'll just fade away.

Why that would bother him so much I don't know. We annoy each other, he's told me that several times. Still, I do nothing to stop him, I don't feel the need too. My head is killing me, though it's a dull ache, like I know it should hurt more, so I imagine it does. I take some Tylenol and John watches me like a hawk.

I think I take a nap, I can't be sure. Just that the next thing I know it's night. John's gone. My days run into another, filled with orange hair, Romy fights and numbers.

I'm suddenly aware that I can see sharper. I'm clear. Only for a split second. Then it's gone. I miss it, yet I don't feel it. I just know I should.

How menial life is, how awkward time is. It flows in such odd ways. I see somethings, yet I don't know when they happened. Some I'm not even sure if they happened.

The next Friday I wake up and do my usual routine. My car is ready today. John's driving me to the mechanic today after school. It's a flicker of excitement. I notice even less today. Somehow I think that it should be effecting my schoolwork, this emptiness, yet my grades are still pretty good. A steady B student, the occasional A.

Warren Worthington III, our business teacher, looks especially blond today. Romy is especially argumentative today. Logan is less artsy than he already was.

"You ready Sheila?" John asked me after the last bell rings. I nod and put on my backpack. He drives us to the mechanic. I pay the bill, get my car keys. My pretty little red car.

"Bye John." I say, eyes only on the car. "Pick you up tomorrow." I tell him. He nods. He doesn't like to leave my alone, completely alone I mean. Not since, well, not since the emptiness tried to overtake my clear day.


	4. Chapter 4: Dreams

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: I actually got inspiration for this fic from one line in the song Insideout by Eve6. "I hear words in clips and phrases."  
A nice happy Romy-ness discovery.**

**The Duplicitous One: In the next chapter the emptiness is explained a little better. :D. And, um, study. **

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Chapter four: (Dreams)

I get home from the mechanic shop quick enough. I barely even notice the road beneath my tires. Maybe that's a bad thing. It won't stop me. It's night before I realize it. Things always sneak up one me now. I've resigned myself to it. It's not like I can really notice anyway. It's just a vague impression. Something only one corner of my mind can know, admit. The rest of me has no idea.

I remember when I had more clear days than empty ones. So long ago, it seems. Now nearly everyday is an empty one. It doesn't bother me, not like it should. Not like that one corner tells me it should. I ignore that part of myself, like I ignore so many other things.

I lay on my bed, watching as the very last bits of light fade to blackness. I hear rain, I wonder if thunder will roll. I'm not disappointed. Lightning fills every dark shadow, then fades, thunder rumbles just after.

John doesn't come tonight. It's okay. I'm asleep soon enough, the flashing light lulling me into sleep.

I feel something slipping, in some forgotten way. Like something I would have recognized once. Now it is just an inkling, a pinprick I barely feel. Maybe it's a vain attempt, but I hope vaguely that tomorrow will be clear. Like the rain, now washing away the dirt of today, will somehow rinse this emptiness from me. That corner of my brain wants to feel again.

I dream.

I see blue, a vision pulled over. Like two sets of eyes. One normal, the world is exactly as it should be. The other, possibilities.

So many changes, so many I alone could make.

Power, it's mine, in my own power.

I can change the world, the universe maybe. I just have to try.

Maybe it'll kill me.

A plane, flying, then . . .

NO!

I have to stop.

I can't.

I can't change anything.

Numbers fill this second vision.

It doesn't matter. Nothing will change.

Not my power.

I can't, I can't.

Fire. Fire. I see fire.

Wetness, I want to cry. No, I won't let it see me cry.

Fire. Concentrate.

A thought, like a whisper on the wind.

A decision. Can I choose?

No.

I can't decide. Which do I love more, the flame or the heat?

No. I can't decide, can't choose.

I love them both, but there's something else.

I love that more.

The flame, the heat. It belongs to it.

That . . . something.

What is it?

I don't know.

I do know.

I can't remember.

Darkness, darkness.

It's coming.

NO! I want the fire.

Darkness takes me away.

NO! NO! NO!

* * *

I open my eyes. I breath in. My window is open. I smell rain, smoke. I sit up carefully.

"Wanda."

John, he's on my floor, leaning back against the wall beneath my window. Like we we're kids again.

"Your down there." I say.

"I was wet." John answers.

"Oh." is all I say. My limbs feel stiff. I get out of bed anyway. I realize I didn't change yesterday. I'm still dressed.

"You okay. You were screaming last night." John says. He's behind me, I spin. I hadn't heard him get up, walk over to where I am.

"Yeah, it was just a dream." I say, holding back a shudder. He still looks slightly damp. "You can go now." I tell him. For some reason I feel the need to soften my words. "Your still wet. You should change."

John nods. He climbs out my window. Staring at me as he goes.

I have to get out, away. I change at breakneck speed. I'm out the door before I've even decided where I'm going.

Rogue. I'll go see her. I'm at the school in no time, but I sense every second passing. Notice every tree, every twist and turn in their gnarled bark, every time the road matches.

One thought. 'I'm clear.'

I remember something from yesterday. Kitty, her roommate that talks to much, is at Amanda's, having a sleep over. Rogue should be alone. I'll probably have to wake her up. I don't bother knocking.

I wish I had. I almost scream, but I hold it back. I just jump out and slam the door.

A minute later Rogue opens the door slightly, just enough to get herself out. She looks at me, maybe sheepishly. "Hi." She says.

It takes me a bit, to collect my thoughts, turn them into words. "What the hell was that?" I ask finally, my voice so misleadingly calm.

"Um, so ya did see 'im." Rogue blushes. Rogue never blushes.

"Yeah, I did. How long has that been going on?" My voice is still so calm. How am I managing that?

"Um, three months." Rogue answers quietly.

"Three months!" My voice gets loud then soft. "You've been sleeping with Remy for three months, yet you never felt the need to tell me!"

"Well, it's complicated." Rogue answers.

"How is it complicated. My best friend is sleeping with the guy I thought she hated, yet she never felt the need to tell me this. Instead I walk in on them." I say hotly. I can't believe she kept something this big from me.

"Wanda, calm down. Ah was gonna tell ya." Rogue defends herself. "That's why ah asked ya tah come tah the movies with meh tahnahght." Rogue tells me. This calms me down, a little.

"Why'd you keep it a secret so long?" I ask her. I feel a wave of exhaustion. I slump against the wall, letting myself fall to the cheep carpet. Rogue sits against the opposite wall.

"At first, ah wanted tah tell ya, right aftah it happened. But then ah thought 'How would ah even begin to explain.' So ah kept quiet. Ah told Remy tah act the same. Tah keep up lahke he always did." Rogue explained. "Then, it became, exhilarating. Ah had a secret. Something so big. No one knew, we had tah sneak around. It made it, exciting, forbidden. It's still lahke that, mostly. But Remy, he wanted to be able to tell someone, and ah found ah wanted tah tell ya too. We decided we we're gonna let ya know. Ya and John, but that was it."

"It's all been an act." i confirm.

"Yeah, for the last three months." Rogue nods.

"Then what about that day you lost it on him?" I challenge. "Was it still an act then?"

Again Rogue nods. "Ah thought he might slip up, ah couldn't let that happen. Besides, he smells good. It was the perfect excuse tah smell him." Rogue smirked. "Ah actually lahke fightin' with him."

"Nice." I scoff.

"Aren't ya curious? Ah thought, after ya understood, that the first thing ya'd ask would be how ah feel about him." Rogue said.

"I was getting to that." I inform her. "So, how do you feel?"

"Ah'm pretty sure ah love him." Rogue said, looking down, away. I feel a smile pull at my lips. I let it come. I'm happy for her. I get up, open her door.

"Remy, get your ass out here." I say and close the door.

"He might not still be in there." Rogue said with a smirk. "He's good at getting away."

"Non, Remy still be here." He said, leaning in the now, once again, open doorway. "What y' want?" He asks me.

"Tell me how you feel about her. If I believe you, I won't kill you." I tell him.

He smirks. "Je l'aime."

"English buddy. I know what you said, but your gonna have to say it in English." I tell him.

"I love her." Remy said. It's a bit of a shock, to hear him use the first person, but I let it go. I believe him.

"Ok, now, I'm stealing your girlfriend." I tell him, then turn to Rogue. "Come on you." I grab her arm and pull her away.


	5. Chapter 5: Revelations

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: I dyed my hair blue. Though it was dark brown already so now it looks black with blue tint. :is still happy: :D:D:D**

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Chapter five: (Revelations)

"What is it Wanda?" Rogue asks me as soon as we stop. We're seated beneath the bleachers on the football field.

"I just had to get away from the house." I answer.

"That's not all." Rogue tells me in a flat voice, she knows I'm holding something back. I sigh and tell her about my dream.

"It just freaked me out really." I tell her.

"What did John say?" It shouldn't surprise me really, that she would ask that. She knows of the arrangement. She'd once spent an entire summer with me, she'd seen it first hand. On those days John would sleep on the floor again.

"He said I was screaming, he was worried but I told him I was fine." I answer.

"Of course ya would." Rogue shakes her head. For some reason she has it in her head that John is in love with me. Bull if you ask me. "Ya would say ya were fine even if yar brain was smeared all over the sidewalk."

"Shut up." I say, fighting the urge to stick my tongue out like a little girl.

Rogue sighs. "At least she's up tahday." She doesn't think I hear her, but i do.

"What?" I feel my eyes start to widen, and I can't stop them. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing."

"No, you said. 'At least she's up today.'" I say.

"Crap." Rogue looks up at me. "Fahne, ah'll tell ya. Ah know ya thank no one notices, but ah do." Rogue starts. "It's lahke yar dead half the tahme. But not really, more lahke yar not all there. Then, sometimes, lahke tahday, ya wake up. Yar all here."

"How'd you . . . "

"Lahke ah said, ya don't thank anyone notices." Rogue stares at me. "When yar up, it's almost lahke yar seeing the world for the first tahme. Ya look at everything, take it all in. On other days it's lahke ya can't see anything for more than a minute, lahke yar . . . "

"Empty." I interrupt.

"Yeah, lahke yar empty." Rogue agrees.

"That's what I call it." I say. "I call it the emptiness. Sometimes I've thought maybe I should get help, a psychiatrist or something. But then I have a clear day, or I forget, or time jumps again and something else is happening.

"You know last friday, when I didn't come to art class?" I ask, somehow, now that I know that she does. I can't stop, I have to tell her. Rogue nods. "It was a clear day. I was coming to class. At some point, the emptiness had started creeping up on me. I noticed finally. I tried to fight it, but it came anyway. I blacked out. John found me, brought me home. I've been empty since then. Until today."

"That's nevah happened before?" Rogue asks, I shake my head. Rogue opens her mouth to say more, but her phone rings. "Hold on." She answers it. "Hello." "Kurt, what do ya wan . . . " "Yeah ah'll come get ya. Be right there." Rogue hangs up her phone. She turns to me. "Ah gotta go, Kurt got himself lost."

"Again?" I ask, Rogue nods. Kurt has a somewhat profound ability to get lost anywhere. He can be with the group one second and then separated and alone the next. It's almost like he just randomly pops up somewhere else. Last Christmas Rogue got him a cell phone so he wouldn't have to keep using pay phones to call her for help. "See ya." I say and Rogue leaves.

I lay back on the ground, looking up at the bleachers, wondering the probability of a wind coming and knocking at the right support to send the thing tumbling to the ground, wondering the likelihood of me being able to react fast enough.

My phone rings. I answer. "Hello."

"Sheila!" He sounds both angry and relieved.

"What John?" I ask rolling onto my stomach.

"Where are you?"

"Under the bleachers, why?"

"Cause, I just found something out."

"What, about Rogue and Remy?" I ask, a bit of a smirk on my face.

"How'd you . . . " he trails off. "They told you already."

"Yup."

"Damn."

"Sorry," I wait a beat. "not." Such a lame joke, but it works.

"I'm still coming to find you." He says.

"Why?" Now annoyance is starting to kick in.

"Because, I can." He says. Then I hear foot falls, soft, but I hear them nonetheless. A small snapping sound, my phone goes dead. "There you are." His voice comes to me. I roll over on my back, look up at him.

"Why are you so annoying?" I ask.

"Because." He smirks and plops down next to me.

I scoff. "Jeez, go somewhere else then. Go somewhere and die." I tell him and look back up at the bleachers, trying to reclaim my earlier thought process.

"Or not, I don't feel like dying today." John says. "What're you doing?"

"Counting the ceiling tiles."

"We're outside."

"So."

"Sheila." He sighs.

"Just leave me alone John, I don't feel like dealing with you today."

"Fine, then I won't tell you what you were screaming last night."

Instantly I'm curious, but I hide it. I think I know anyway. I hear him get up, then I see him in my right eye. He goes away. I sigh and roll over on my side. I think I'm falling asleep.

I watch a blade of grass. It's only after I think I see it move that I realize it's too dark. I start to get up, but my body is like lead. I manage somehow to get my head up, then my torso. I turn. John's still walking away.

That's not good. How can it be so dark, if he's still walking away it can't have been more than a few seconds.

I feel a pull, like I felt last night, but this, this is so much more profound. I know what this is, the emptiness is pulling me back.

"John!" I yell, but I get the sense that my voice isn't as loud as I think it is. "John!" I yell again, as loud as I can possibly manage. Blackness takes over my vision, but I'm still awake. No! I refuse to be empty again. I don't want to be just a shell of myself.

Distantly I feel arms around me, a voice calling my name. I have to fight. I have to win. It's a strong pull, but I fight it with everything I have. I can't, I can't go back to that.

I'm not sure when exactly it happens, but at some point the pull stops. I think I've won, but I'm to tired to really know.


	6. Chapter 6: Prisoner

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: Sorry for making her sleep so much.**

**The Duplicitous One: Yeah, I'm just ignoring that storyline completely. Her dad is just a really busy guy in this story. He's simply not around.**

* * *

Chapter six: (Prisoner)

"Wanda, tell me." John pleads. I won't. I won't tell him. "Please."

"No."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business."

"Oh come on Sheila. It's twice now that you've blacked out and I've had to bring you home." John says. He's sitting at my kitchen table, he refuses to leave.

"I didn't ask you too."

He stares at me. "Maybe not the first time Sheila, but you called me the second time." John proves my lie.

I'd woken up only five minutes ago. This time I was in the back seat of my car. John had the door open and was going to pull me out, we were at my house. I got out on my own."I'm fine." I'd told him even though I felt wobbly on my legs. I nearly fell, he picked me up despite my protests and brought me to the kitchen, set me down on a chair. "Go home." I'd told him. He refused.

"Tell me Sheila." He says again. I shake my head, ignoring the dizziness I feel at the motion. He gets up from his chair and comes around to stand in front of mine. I haven't been able to get up yet, and he knows it. He stares down at me. "Sheila, I'll make you an offer." He says. "If you can get up, with out using anything from support, and walk to the doorway and back without touching anything or collapsing, I'll leave you alone." I glare at him. "If you lose, then you tell me."

Slowly I nod, I can do this. I think. Somehow I manage to get up, get to the doorway, without help. I'm almost to the table. Two more steps and I'll be there. He'll leave. He's standing there, watching me carefully. In case I fail? I take a step, move my leg, lift, then set down, then put weight on it. It crumbles. I start to fall.

I don't reach the ground. John catches me. "Better than I thought Sheila." He says depositing me once again in the chair. "Now tell."

I glare and sigh simultaneiously. I didn't want to tell him. I'd almost made him give it up. Reluctantly I tell him about my dream. Nothing about the emptiness, no stupid bet will get that out of me.

"That's not it Sheila, and you know it. No dream does that to people." John says. "Now tell me."

"No."

"You lost the bet."

"So."

"You have to tell."

"I'm not going too." I say defiantly.

"Fine have it your way. Don't expect me to save you next time." John says.

"And just who do you think you are, some hero or something. The knight to save the damsel in distress. Well guess what, it ain't the middle ages."

He laughs a little, a small little laugh. "I'd never think that." I glare at him some more. "I'd never make a story with a weak woman."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He smiles. "All my heroines are strong. Wimpy woman aren't as fun to write." I'd forgotten. It was so easy to forget. He was a writer, in every sense of the word. He was constantly writing stories, thinking of names and situations. But he never let anyone read his work, so it faded to the back of my mind.

I glare at him more. I don't feel like being civil in the loosest sense of the word. I want to be rude and bitchy. So I am.

He walks out of the kitchen. I think he's gone. I put my head down on the table. He pops back in. "Ok, I can't just leave." He says. "I have to know."

"I'm not telling you."

"Your exhausted. You should sleep."

"I'm not tired at all." Except I hadn't lifted my head and my eyes seemed glued shut. It seemed I didn't have a choice either way. John picks me up for the third time today. He carries me down the hallway to my open door. he puts me on the bed. i must have moved, must have put my arms around his neck, because I pull him down with me.

"Sheila." He says, it's too late. I'm already to far gone into sleep. Just before I'm fully asleep, or maybe I already am, a soft pressure presses to my head.

* * *

"Sheila, get up." I don't want to. "Sheila." I groggily open my eyes.

"What do you want?"

"You have to eat something. Your stomach has been growling nonstop for about five minutes." John answers. "And I have to go home, you have to let go."

I release him, somehow my arms had wound themselves around him in a tight hug. We get up and he leaves through my window. I feel the hollow in my stomach, hear the gurgling, and go searching for food. The clock above the stove says it's nearly five. It's time for dinner. I make myself a frozen dinner, lasagna.

My phone is still in my pocket, I flip it open and look at the date. Still Saturday. I have a missed call. I call the number back.

"Wanda, where'd ya go?"

"Hi Rogue."

"Wanda."

"I went home, I just woke up."

"Did you black out again?"

"Yeah." I say reluctantly.

"Yar home, who found ya?"

"John."

"Put him on."

"No, he's gone, went home."

"Wanda, he lives next door. Go get him."

"No."

"Do it."

"No."

"Wanda."

"I'm not getting John." I say to loudly.

"Why not." It's not Rogue. God, he won't leave me alone will he. He's back, PopTart in hand.

"That's him, ah can hear him, put him on."

"No." I say and am about to shut the phone. John grabs it before I can and puts it to his ear.

"Yeah." "She did." "What?" "Oh," "No, she didn't." "Sorta, didn't really know what it was though." "Yeah, I will." "Don't worry." John shuts the phone. "No more secrets for you." He tells me. "I know now."

"Damn her." I curse my friend. I move my plate away, not hungry anymore and put my head on the table.

"Wanda, did you ever think about a psychiatrist?"

"Yeah." I say, no use lying now.

"And."

"No."

"Well, then what now? Clear or cloudy."

"Clear." I tell him. "I won."

"I wonder if that's good or not."

"What's that supposed to mean?" My head snaps up.

"I don't know." John answers.

"So go away."

"Nope." He receives my best glare. "I'm on strict orders. I'm not to leave you alone, at all. Well, except bathroom time, but then I'm to stand outside the door." John says with a crazy grin.

"I hate you all." I shout and stomp away, ignoring his following presence and the growing feeling that I'm acting like a four year old.


	7. Chapter 7: Stories

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: So I totally made up John's story as I was typing it. **

**The Duplicitous One: So, you asked, I tell. It's the emptiness. Personally, I'd be troubled too if most of my days were spent in that state. (Added Rogue's question to help explain better.) :)  
Candyglue: No, they don't have powers, but it's still not AU. It's a bit confusing, but the last chapter will explain.**

* * *

Chapter seven: (Stories)

They won't leave me alone. When John's not ghosting me, Rogue is at my side. It's annoying. Pietro hasn't noticed. He usually eats dinner with me on weekdays, yet he hasn't commented on John's sudden appearance at our table. He really is oblivious and self absorbed.

"What's it like?" Rogue asked one day.

"What?"

"The emptiness."

"Oh, um." I thought for a second. "It's like I'm fading away, but only partly. I still know things are going on, I just can't tell what or when. I can't remember things really. Nothing really sticks. It's sorta like blacking out, but it's not. Cause I know time is passing, things are happening around me, I just can't notice. It's more like having a gray out." I tell her. "Colours look different too, washed out."

She didn't ask me anything more.

Time goes on.

"John, just leave me alone." I say in vain. He's sprawled out on my bed, watching me get my pajamas.

"No, we've discussed this already." He says. Discussed my ass. "Strict orders." I glare at him and leave the room. He gets up to follow me and stands outside the door as I change in the bathroom.

The emptiness has kept away. For five days now. I'm not sure why or how, just that it has. It's strange, but I like it. I'm done so I go out the door.

"Come on Sheila."

"Shut up." I say and sneer. It doesn't effect him but I do it anyway. I stretch out on my bed and he settles on my floor. He's got a notebook and a pen. He's writing again. He won't let me read it, or even know what it's about. I asked him the first time I saw it.

"John?" I ask today.

"What?"

"What'cha writing?" He won't tell me.

"Nothing." He says as predicted.

"How do you expect to be a writer if you won't let anyone read your work?" I challenge. "At least tell me what it's about."

"No."

"Come on, you have to let someone read it."

"I read it." He says. I just stare at him. He sighes. "I really would rather not."

"I don't care. Your imprisoning me, you might as well entertain me." I tell him.

"I'm not imprisoning you."

"You are, get over it, now tell me what your writing." I say.

He sighs again. "Fine." I wait for him to start. "I'm doing character development."

"For who, what story, tell me." I demand.

"Elijah Andrews and Sofia Macaluso." He tells me. "They're the main characters. Elijah is a little crazy, and Sofia is a bit of a bitch."

"What's their story?" I ask, satisfied I've got him talking.

"Elijah's in love with Sofia, but he can't tell her. He's just a poor guy, she's a rich girl. He's a servant to her family."

"What century?" I ask.

"19th, the 1800's didn't look too kindly on that." John answers.

"What about Sofia? How does she feel?"

"Oh, she's oblivious to Elijah's feelings. All she knows is that he seems to take extra care with her orders. She's beautiful, has the world at her fingertips." John says.

"Does she have anyone she loves?" I'm not sure why I'm so interested. Maybe cause he's never told me anything about his writing before.

"No, I don't think she does. She's too stubborn to love anyone."

"That's harsh. What's going to happen to them?"

"Her family business is going under, she doesn't know that, know one does but her father. He's trying to marry her off before the news gets out. He's spending more money than he should, she's his only daughter, he's hosting lavish parties so she can meet a wealthy man."

"He sounds like he cares." I say.

"He does. He worked himself up from nothing, he hasn't forgotten what it's like to be poor, but he doesn't want Sofia to know the feeling." John gets up from the floor and sits on my bed. I roll onto my side so I can look at him more. Watch him as he talks. "Sofia's being difficult, she won't pick a suitor, she doesn't know she has too. Mr. Macaluso can't tell her though, he can just hope she'll choose."

"What about her mother?"

"Dead, a few years ago."

"What's going to happen?"

"I'm not sure."

"It's your story."

"I haven't got that far yet."

"John."

"What?"

"Tell me more about Elijah, why does he love her?" John stretches himself out beside me.

"At first, her beauty captivated him, but then he began to watch her. She was bitchy yes, but she also cared so much. She wouldn't just look over the rag heaps of people on the street, she'd look at them with sorrow, wishing to ease their pain but not knowing how. At night she'd cry sometimes, for them. When she was sick she refused to let it stop her. She was brilliant, curious, maybe to much for her own good."

"Why do you say that?"

"She's going to find out what her father's kept secret, but it'll be too late. The time to choose will have passed." John said. "I thought you wanted to hear more about Elijah?"

"I do."

"His mother is the head chef, his father died a long time ago. He's the butlers assistant, apprentice. He knows how to at both poor and rich. He's lived in the middle, in both worlds and neither. He wants Sofia, but he can't have her." John tells me. "Your tired." He says. I must have closed my eyes.

"No, keep talking, I'm listening." I say.

"No, your almost asleep." The mattress shifts as he reaches for my pillow. He puts it under my head. I struggle to open my eyes. I win.

"I want to hear more about them." I tell him. He ignores me and pulls the blanket out from under me then puts it over us. "John." I try to glare, but I'm tired.

"Shh, Sheila, go to sleep."

"Shut up." I say. "Tell me more."

He laughs. "Contradictions, Sheila." I give up glaring and force myself to move. Somehow I manage to mauneuvre it so I'm pinning him to the mattress, my face inches from him. If he can't move, he'll have to tell me.

"Tell me, I don't want to sleep." It runs through my mind to wonder why exactly I care so much. I ignore it, just as I ignore the excited flipping my heart does at our position.

"Sheila." He says, no trace of laughter in his voice. There's something else, I ignore it. I ignore so much.

"Tell me."

"No, sleep." It almost sounds like begging.

"Just tell me, then I'll sleep." I say.

He seems to be trying to say something, but can't figure out how. Finally he exhales, his warm breath spreading across my face. "Sorry, I honestly can't remember what I was saying." He admits.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand.

"Your distracting me."

"How?"

"Sheila," he laughs a little, it's shallow. Then he's kissing me. His lips moving against mine. I almost have a heart attack. I kiss him back with all the force I can. He tastes like smoke.

He pulls away and I notice I'm on my back. How did that happen? "Sorry." He says. He's never kissed me before. I take a deep breath. In, out. Try to organize my thoughts.

"It's ok." I say. "Just don't do it again." I ignore the loud screaming protest that my mind and body give me.

"Ok." He says. It's awkward, like we're little kids again. I try to ignore it, but my heart doesn't want to slow down. I turn away from him, but my entire being tells me to turn back. I do. He's staring at me. I stare back. "Sheila."

"Wanda." I correct him, just for something to say.

"Wanda." He repeats. Wrong thing. I'm attacking him before I even understand that I've moved. There's a violence in this kiss, but it's wonderful.

I don't want to stop kissing him, he doesn't seem to want to stop kissing me. But that's all we do. I don't make the move to go farther and neither does he. At some point sleep over takes us.

I wonder what this means.


	8. Chapter 8: Changes

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: True story, we just found out that my grandma and her sisters are daughters of a bastard. It doesn't actually affect anything, it's just quirky to know.**

**The Duplicitous One: The answer to your question lyes within chapter 10. It'll be soon.**

* * *

Chapter eight: (Changes)

Three months. I've been waiting for three months. It's the middle of February, and I'm still waiting. The morning after John kissed me for the first time, I woke up and the emptiness was back. I want a clear day. The emptiness makes it a dull want, but it's still there.

It's such an odd feeling, like I'm submerged in water, or I have a sheet pulled over my head. Nothing is perfectly clear, nothing is distinct, nothing truly stands out.

The only thing that brings me any measure of clearness is John. His kiss. But it's still not the same. No matter how hard I wish it, it's not.

He's been writing nonstop. Elijah and Sofia's story is being told. He tells me when I ask, and sometimes when I don't. He even asks for my imput. He tells me that he modled Sofia after me a bit. He asks me what she thinks.

He's still on orders to make sure I'm never alone. Rogue is still concerned for me, no matter what's happening with her and Remy. It doesn't matter to me anymore. It's not so annoying.

That first morning, I didn't feel any regret, my only thought was that I needed chap-stick. I thought he might not want to be near me anymore, but I was wrong. He says he loves me. Says he doesn't care if I say it back.

I haven't, but I do. I do love him.

He kisses me everyday. He doesn't stay over just because his parents fight. Now he stays over for me. I sleep in his arms and almost feel time pass. It's a good feeling. The knowledge that he makes me able to feel things.

In school I'm empty as ever. He touches me, my hands, the small of my back. Like that first time I blacked out. He's watching me to see if I fade. I don't know if I will or won't.

Rogue is the same. Watching. Now that we know, John and I, Romy has stopped fighting so much. Well, about dating anyway. They still are constantly fighting. It's a hobby of theirs. Their fights amuse me, make me feel something to ease the jarring shell of my existence. It's usually about stupid stuff. They fight and then make up. I've learned to knock before entering her room.

They've all been slipping numbers to me, for my mandola. Something to keep me occupied I suspect. I usually have to ask why these numbers are so significant. Only some of them I've kept. In my second circle I've decided to put the numbers two, seventeen, and forty four. I'm writing them out, using the letters instead of the symbols. The two is because I'm a twin, the seventeen is my age. I'm a happy prime.**(AN:1)** The forty four is how many items of red clothing I have.

"Wanda?" John gets my attention. It's five and we're just coming home from school, Romy kept us there.

"What?"

"You have anything special planned for tonight, Sheila?" I've long since given up trying to make him stop calling me that. I don't even feel a twinge of annoyance anymore. It's actually sort of endearing.

"No, why?" I ask.

"I'm taking you out to dinner." he says with a smile. I steal a glance at him before watching the road again. He doesn't like me driving, but it's not like I can't. I was having an empty day when I passed my drivers test. I park in my driveway and we go into the house. I drop my stuff on the floor. "I'll be right back Sheila. Two minutes." He promises then runs out. He's trying to get back as quickly as possible.

For the first time in months, I'm completely alone. It's eerie, I'm not used to it anymore. I miss company. The sound of another set of footsteps, another set of breathing lungs.

I'm as impatient as I can manage in my hollow shell. He's gone, there's no one with me. Maybe my emptiness will make the time fly and he'll be back.

It doesn't. Every click of the analog clock hanging over the sink, every slight change in the light as the numbers change on the stove clock, every breath, every beat of my heart, every squeak and creak in the old house. I hear it all. Notice it all.

Something's changed. It's not a clear day, I know that, I can feel it. I'm still empty, devoid of everything and anything seemingly human.

Something pulls at my vision, I still see the kitchen around me, but something else starts to form in front of my eyes as well.

A room, florescent lights. They're off, shrouding the place in darkness. Light comes from windows I can't see. The moon?

Ceiling tiles. I'm laying down.

Not on the ground, I'd be able to see more. It seems like I'm on a platform. A bed maybe.

I hear a beeping sound. It's steady. I sense that's a good thing.

I feel a weight on my stomach.

Then it's all gone. One and a half minutes. He's back faster than he thought. He's ready to take me to dinner. He had to get his wallet. His parents, they don't know about me. Girls aren't allowed in his house. They're home, or he would have brought me in anyway.

My mind turns to what just happened. I don't notice him, even his touch doesn't distract me.

Something is changing. I just wish I knew what.

**(AN:1: I personally love math, I'm a geek, I get it. Anyway. In case anyone actually cares, it's hard to explain why a number is happy. So how about we just take my word on it. Seventeen is a happy number. It's also prime. Thus, happy prime. If anyone really wants an explaination, ask. :D)**


	9. Chapter 9: Choices

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: The chap before the end. Contradictions, I like that word.  
Enjoy. :D  
Reviews? (is hopeful)**

* * *

Chapter nine: (Choices)

The water from the shower is starting to run cold, but I still don't move. I see that room again. The lights are on, but it's still so vague, like the outlines are blurry. There's voices, I can almost make out what they're saying. A word here and there. _Plane, broken, stopped, alive, IV_. A hospital? What stopped, what about a plane?

I want to hear them, want to understand, so I don't move. Only when I'm alone. It only happens then, it's the only time I see it. The only place I can be alone is the bathroom. I've taken to spending a lot of time in here.

John's been wondering, but I won't tell him. Hearing voices, seeing things that aren't there. That's almost as bad as being a shell of your former self. They accepted one thing without dragging me to a shrink. I don't think they could take this too. He's already worried, all of them are. I can't give him this too.

I'm contradicting myself.

Now, after the first time, anytime I'm alone, I see that room, hear the voices, feel that weight on my stomach.

Yesterday was clear. The change came in my sleep, both times. I didn't have to fight the emptiness. I was excited yesterday. I thought, if I'm alone, on a clear day, I'll be able to see that room so much better.

It didn't work. I hid in the bathroom for an hour, waiting. Waiting for the room to take shape before my eyes, but nothing did.

I didn't understand, it didn't make sense, every other time I was alone, even for a few seconds, I saw the room.

Not yesterday. Not while I was clear. Why?

I've come up with a theory. I can only see the room when I can't notice anything else. It makes sense in a twisted way.

I want to know what's in that room. Why can't I see the people in it? Why can't I hear their voices clearly? What is that weight on my stomach?

John makes me feel almost clear, yet I want to see that room. I have to be empty to see it, but I want to be clear.

I'm so contradictory.

Why do I have to decide? Can't I have them both? Either both or neither. No, I couldn't live with neither. Without John. Even the emptiness I can't live without. It's so much a part of me now. It's ingrained into my being.

A violent shiver breaks through the vision and I'm back in my bathroom. I'm so cold. I get dressed with shaking hands. My clothes don't warm me up. I open the door. He's waiting for me, as always. I wonder sometimes when he takes care of himself. It always seems like watching me is all he does. Maybe all he wants.

"Sheila." John says, noticing my violent shivers. He pulls me into his arms. He's warm, I close my eyes, breath him in. Smoke. He's my fire. A fragment of a dream comes back to me. A choice. The flame or the heat. Too many choices. I want them both. I'm plopped on my bed, the thought runs away.

"You smell good." I tell him. I don't want him to let me go. He doesn't.

"Good to know Sheila." He laughs. His grip on me loosens, or maybe it doesn't. Maybe I've just stopped shaking.

"Like smoke." I snuggle into his chest. His arms tighten around me. It feels so good to be here. So right. I love him.

He doesn't know that.

We're quite for a while. I want to tell him now. I'm ready too. "John."

"Hmm."

"She loves him."

"What?"

"Sofia, she loves Elijah." I tell him. "He makes her heart beat faster, he's in her dreams, she's just to stubborn to realize why. It's why she won't pick a suitor, she's already in love." He says he modeled her after me, maybe he'll get it. His face tells me he doesn't. I have to say more. Tell him. "There is no one else, for me."

"You?" John questions. It's dawning on him now. Exactly what I meant. He's not sure if it's true. I have to tell him now, it would be cruel not too. Also, I want too, I want to tell him.

"Her, me, both of us. She loves him, and I love you." I say slowly. He needs to know. I've waited so long to tell him. He should know. Now he does.

"Wanda." He breathes. He smiles. I love that smile. He kisses me, wiping away any traces of coldness I might have felt. My fire.

If I'd known, known what his reaction would be, known how much better this kiss would be than all the rest, how much more alive it would make me feel, how much more it could make me love him, I would have told him sooner. I would have told him everyday, just for this. Just so we could be this much closer.

Sickness. Lurching. Surging.

I pull away so fast I think I might seem invisible. I retch. Right onto my carpet. I don't want to see it, but it's in my line of vision. Phlegm and disgusting. I retch again.

My insides burn. Dizziness. Blackness. I can't see anymore.

I'm being pulled, pulled farther into the black emptiness.

"Wanda, Wanda." I can barely hear him. He's so far away. So very far away.

I want to fight, I want to stay with him, get back to him.

The room. It takes shape before my eyes. Stronger, brighter, more defined, then ever before. I can almost see something. What?

I want it.

He tries to pull me back.

I want him too.

I want them both.

I can't decide.

Flame or heat?

Why can't I have both?

Why can't I just be happy?

Why? Why? Why?

I think I scream, but I can't be sure.


	10. Chapter 10: Shattered

**When Darkness Falls**

**AN: THE LAST CHAPTER. IT'S THE END! Everything you think you know, it's all about to be changed.  
:evil smirk:  
Oh, and even though it has nothing to do with anything. How do you get the name Dick from Richard? It always bothers me. Grrr.**

* * *

Chapter ten: (Shattered)

I open my eyes, then shut them again. So bright after so much darkness.

"Wanda." He said my name. Every cell in body responded to it. "Your up." He stops short, his voice holds relief, but also hesitation. Like he wanted to say something, but couldn't. What couldn't he say to me.

Slowly I let my eyes open. I want to see him, his face, his hair, his body. I need to see him. They are my favorites now, the colours, the exact shade of his hair, his eyes, his skin.

"Can you sit up, or does it hurt?" His voice was pure concern now. Why would it hurt to sit up? I attempt it, pain is everywhere, but it's quickly gone, before I can even gasp at it. All that's left is a dizziness. I ignore it.

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. My heart beats with disappointment. I want to see his crazy, beautiful smile. "John." I say his name. Let it roll off my tongue. He's sitting in a hard plastic chair that can't be comfortable. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ The sound of my heart. I'm in a hospital, but I knew that, even before I noticed. Something about this room is so familiar.

"Sh . . ." He stops short again. He was about to call me Sheila, I'm sure. Why'd he stop? Stop when I wanted to hear it so bad.

"Why am I . . ." I trail off.

"What do you remember?" John asks. I think back. Blackness, emptiness, engulfing. No! I shake my head. Something else. A school, fights, knocking before . . . Why can't I remember, why is everything so fuzzy? "Wanda." John, his hair, holding me. A kiss placed on my head. Still so fuzzy. "Your plane crashed." John's voice holds a quiver he doesn't want me to hear.

A new set of memories, so much clearer than the last ones, come to me. I had fallen asleep, I was so tired, so much fighting. I didn't notice it at first when the engine started to malfunction. We were going down. The woman next to me. It was her scream that woke me up.

I had to stop it, numbers flew across my vision. arranging themselves into possible outcomes. It was too late, I couldn't stop it, not with my depleted strength. The best I could do was slow our fall, allow the pilot to get us down with less of a crash. Let more people live.

In this future I had picked, only twelve would die, I couldn't be sure who. Two would be injured beyond help, I couldn't pinpoint which ones. But everyone else, the rest would live. Live to see another day.

My other memories, they were fake. My brain, my power. It took hold of me. Brought my mind somewhere else to escape the overwhelming pain. Another world, another life it had made for me.

Tears filled my eyes. For this life that never was. Rogue, Remy, Kurt, they weren't real. At least, not that way. And John, he wasn't either. More tears. He didn't love me, but I still loved him.

"Are they dead? The other two." I force myself to ask, anything to distract me. My heart is breaking into a million pieces. A million pieces that hurt me more than any broken bone.

He doesn't seem surprised that I know, he knows how my powers work. He nods. I feel a wave of guilt for these people, I singled them out for death. But I know my limits, the power to stop that plane would have killed me before I'd generated enough power. All these thoughts are quickly washed away as another wave of heartbroken pain envelopes me.

"Wanda." John says. I'm crying. He's never seen me cry, no one has, but I can't stop. It hurts, it hurts. He can't seem to think of anything else to say.

"I have to tell them your up." John says, looking for an escape. I know who they are. My true memories tell me. Rogue and Remy, Pietro and Lexa, all the X-Men.

John's not an X-Man, but he's not evil either. He's neutral, a Switzerland in our mutant wars. He's a writer, my mind world got that right. He won't fight.

He gets up to leave. His hand. For the first time I notice. I'm holding it. His big warm hand is in mine. I don't want to let it go. I can almost feel the fire in it, smell the smoke. I refuse. It may hurt me so much to see him and know he doesn't love me. But I know it would hurt worse for him to be away. "No." I say.

"Sheila." He protests. I can almost smile for the name, but I know it doesn't hold the same feeling it did in my mind world.

"Don't leave me alone." I say. "I've had enough alone."

"I won't." He sits back down. Our hands go back to their place in my lap. A weight on my stomach. It was this room I'd seen. The weight, it must have been his hand. The emptiness, I understand now. I was healing, getting better. My delusion, it was harder to hold onto when I was so near health. Those clear days I had coveted so much, that was me closer to death. I shiver at the thought.

"Did my heart ever stop?" I ask. I'd heard something about something being stopped.

"How'd you know that?" John asks, he doesn't wait for an answer though. "It was stopped for five minutes. They almost couldn't get it to start again."

It scares me how I would fight the emptiness, fight my healing. I was killing myself without realizing it.

"How long have I been out?"

"Three weeks."

"How long have you been here?" I try not to make it sound bitchy, but, also, I do. Maybe it'll mask my pain, my eyes are dry now, but it still hurts so much.

"Not long." He doesn't look at me. Is he lying? Why would he lie?

Something of my mind world comes to me and I have to tell him, I'm not sure why, just that I need him to know. "While I was healing, my mind created a haven for me. A place to distract me from the pain. You were there. You told me a story."

"I was, I did?" He asks, he looks back at me. The beat of my broken heart quickens. I wonder if he notices.

"You did. They were named Sofia and Elijah. They were in love. You said you modeled Sofia after me. She was stubborn. To stubborn to realize she was in love. To stubborn to admit it once she knew." I'm not sure where I'm going with this. "The thing is, I am that way. I am to stubborn to admit my feelings." I still don't know why I'm saying these things. "But, we differ, Sofia and I. She never could tell him. I can."

"Wanda, what're you talking about?" John's voice is hesitant.

"In my mind world, I fell in love with you." I won't look at him.

"You said it was something your brain used to distract you. Maybe that's it." I can't tell what his tone is. What he means. I'd have to look at his face. But I can't, I can't see him, I stare at our joined hands. His is so big, and so still.

I know now why I began speaking to begin with. I'm going to tell him. It'll hurt so much when he says he doesn't feel the same. Maybe I'll really die from the pain this time. Or go back to my mind world. Or maybe I'll just have emptiness. Emptiness, that sounds good. Numbness to everything.

At least I'll never wonder what would have happened if I told him. I'll know. I'll have the memory.

"It's not. The feelings that existed there, they were the same as what I feel in reality." I'm still staring at his hand. His hand in mine, so warm. I thought of him as my fire then, how close I was. "I still love you, John, now that I'm conscienous."

I don't hear him breath. His hand goes cold in mine. I tighten my grip on it. What if it goes away? What if he goes away? Fades to nothing. I want to take it back, tell him I'm joking, but I can't. It's out there. I'm not prepared for the pain. I just know it'll come.

"Sheila." Suddenly I'm looking at him. How? I feel his hands on my face. "Is that true?"

"Yes." It's all I can do to whisper the word. Already I'm starting to feel pain.

I close my eyes so I can't see the words that'll turn my broken heart to dust form on his lips.

A pressure, so soft I don't understand it at first, touches my mouth. Then it's harder fiercer. A kiss. A final kiss, a first kiss. He's nice enough to do this for me, or maybe cruel enough.

My broken heart is beating sporadically. How can something so broken be so loud?

I kiss him with all the force I can manage. I don't want it too end. When it ends, so will everything I care about.

He pulls his mouth away. "I love you, Sheila."

What? Did I imagine that? I must have. Nothing that wonderful could ever happen to me. I want to shake my head, he's holding it. "No." I say.

"I do. I love you Wanda. I love you more than anything in the universe. I've wanted to tell you for so long." I can't believe him.

"No." I say again.

"Wanda Maximoff, I, St. John Allerdyce, am in love with you. I have been for so long. I was to much of a coward to tell you. I love you." John's voice. It sounds so good to hear him say these words I know aren't true. "I love you more than fire."

"Now I know I'm dreaming again." I say.

"How can I prove it to you?" He sounds desperate. Even through my own heartache, I want to help him. "I love you." He kisses me again. So much better than anything my mind world was able to come up with. How could I dream this?

"I don't know." I feel wetness at my eyes again. I'm such a mess, I can't keep myself together.

"She's up." Another voice breaks the moment. John drops his hands, I turn my head. It's Rogue, Remy just behind her. His hand is at her waist. She's completely covered, only her face and neck show.

"Hi." I say, my voice sounds broken.

"Wanda." She's at my side in a second. Remy shadowing her as always. "Rem, leave us be for now." She tells him.

"Alright Chere." He says, he touches her back as he leaves.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Alrahght." She somehow senses that it's useless to ask more.

"Remy's following you again." I say, to get the attention off myself.

"He's always following, ya know that." Rogue sighs. "He's just lucky ah love him, otherwise ah'd a touched him by now." That sounds like her. So much like her. That mix of pain, longing, annoyance, and laughter that was speciafically her. No matter how good my imagination, I would never be able to capture that.

Could I believe this wasn't a dream?

"Sheila." John says. He's still where he was, he didn't move at all. That Rogue ignored him in the order to leave us alone, how long was he at my bedside, really? I turn back to him. "I don't know how to convince you. Please just believe me."

"I think, I do." I said finally. I could never imagine these things, I'm not that creative. Rogue is looking at us, she already knows. It's obvious.

"Finally. Took ya long enough." She says with an exasperated sigh. Trying to hide her enjoyment at the news. I smile, even if it is a dream. I never want to wake up.

Maybe I can have both.

_The End_


End file.
